


falling in love is not

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, very gentle cuddling as it is all very new for seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 08:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13923729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Seven of Nine is not entirely sure what love might entail. She is more certain that she knows what falling in love is not.It is not the easy happiness she experiences with Samantha Wildman. That is not love as it has been explained to her.





	falling in love is not

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure who this is for. Please forgive me for taking so long. I had to get my Seven voice right and it took some fiddling.

Seven of Nine knows nothing of love. She has read about it, heard stories from crew members who have been in love. She has listened and collected data, and she is aware of what love is not.

Love is not walking Naomi Wildman home from the holodeck to see Sam smile. It is not standing next to Samantha Wildman in the mess hall, listening to her talk about how to make the perfect lasagna. (which seems to be very calorie dense, something that counts as comfort food). It is not brushing Naomi's hair, or playing games with her in the holodeck. It is not Naomi falling asleep in her lap and Samantha trusting her to carrying her to bed.

It can not be sitting back down next to Samantha, not wanting to go to her alcove.

It is most likely not sharing hot chocolate with Samantha and being reminded again to call her Sam but Sam is not her full designation. Sam is not all that she is. She's mother and scientist and kind. She speaks of Earth is less flowery tones than everyone else. She knows other planets, has another home and Samantha Wildman is aware that _Voyager_ must also be home because it is where Naomi found her collective.

Love is not these things. These are small. These are Seven stumbling on the road to humanity. Love is supposed to be tingling and consuming, it's supposed to hurt and burn and make her feel awkward.

She is not aware of what awkward feels like. Though she imagines it is what it feels like to be as Harry beheaves. She has no concept of internalizing that emotion, feeling her own respiration rise and shuffling her feet. She does not do these things. Her heart doesn't beat faster. Se does not wish for poetry and soft things.

"You don't have to go back, it's late. Stay."

That is kndness, consideration. Nothing more.

"I do not sleep."

Samantha Wildman smiles into the back of her hand, yawning. "Have you tried?"

"No."

"Ah." She stands, collecting their cups and setting them aside for morning. Samantha Wildman reaches out her hand. "Have you ever cuddled?"

"No." Seven reaches up, taking her hand. "I suppose a few times with Naomi."

"Children are often cuddly."

"Would you like to try? I know you don't need to sleep, but it's nice. It can be a very nice thing, and I thought--"

"I would not be adverse to trying it."

"If you don't like it, that's okay."

Samantha dresses for bed, hugging to herself while she cleans her teeth and puts on her pyjamas. She blushes a little when Seven does not look away. Her breasts are softer than Seven's own, heavier, almost, and lines cover her belly from Naomi's growth. Svene watches her while she grows comfortable and then stands, arms by her side.

"I suppose nudity doesn't bother you."

"It can be cold."

"Yes."

"Other than that." Samantha pulls a t-shirt over her head and tucks her hair back. "You don't get embarrassed."

"Why would i?"

Samantha laughs, sitting down on the bed and moving the pillows. "You are very beautiful."

"As I am told." Seven bends down to remove her shoes. Her outfit is perfectly comfortable for all occasions so she will wear it for this cuddling. "I believe I fit most measure for human beauty. My facial features are very symmetrical. My physique is healthy."

Samantha pats the bed beside her. "That's not what I meant."

"Those are the definitions of beauty."

"Beauty is much more than symmetry and signs of good health."

"Those parts are up to personal taste and opinion."

"Oh I see," Samantha says, smiling. She reaches for Seven's hair and removes the pins carefully, letting it fall down. She grabs her brush and runs it through Seven's hair, smoothing it out. "I think beauty can be many things. Art, a piece of music-"

"The Doctor would agree with you."

"But you are also right, it's a part of personal taste and opinion. I find you beautiful because I am fond of your presence, because you make me smile and I feel safe with you."

"I am Borg."

Samantha laughs, stroking her forehead. Her fingers brush across the implant on Seven's temple. "Ktarian's have ridges alng their foreheads, much more prominent in full-blooded Katarians. They're very sharp if you move too quickly. My husband and my daughter have scratched me more than you."

"I was an instrument of death and suffering."

"So is this ship."

Seven ponders that while Samantha plays with her hair, their faces are close and she does not want to be closer. She's not afraid. Why would she possibly be afraid. This is pleasant. She enjoys Samantha's company. Having her hair touched is also pleasant, and she is more pleased with the idea of cuddling, whatever that might entail.

"Elaborate, please."

" _Voyager_ has weapons and shields. We has an incredibly powerful warp core. We could come too close to a planet and destroy their atmosphere without ever realizing they couldn't handle warp ionization. Any one of us could step foot on a planet carrying a deadly pathogen that could wipe out their entire ecosystem. We are all harbingers of death for some creature, so place, just as we're nearly always in danger of dying."

"Naomi Wildman is too young to face death."

"Yet she's here, with us." Samantha smiles towards her bedroom, shaking her head. "Yet she lives with beauty. She has teachers who are some of the finest minds n the quadrant, and she learns patience and how a crew can become a family. Somedays I feel like she has everyone on this ship as an aunt or uncle, should she need them."

"Does that mean they are siblings for you as well?" Perhaps this is what she feels. A kinship, a kind of belonging to Samantha Wildman as a member of the same collective.

"Most of them." Samantha lies down and smiles at her, patting her shoulder. "Lie down, Seven."

Lying on her side makes the most sense and she curls her elbow beneath her head, even with the pillow. Samantha curls up next to her, resting her hand on Sevens' stomach and she's warmth against her back, soft and familiar.

This is home. Safe. Comfortable. Some part of her that was not buried by the Borg remembers lying in bed with her parents, being safe, and this is that but alsmot something else because Samantha smells wonderful.

This is not falling in love as it has ever been described to her. This is not empirical. This makes no sense.

"Are you all right?"

She's tense. Bed is no place for posture but Saantha melts against her, and in turn she melts. Safe.

Happy.

This is good in a way Seven has no words for.

"I am happy." She wants to stay an sigh and let her thoughts go soft.

Samantha kisses the back of her neck and chuckles. "I thought you might like cuddling."

"It's very pleasant."

Their breathing slows together, and Seven closes her eyes even though she needs no sleep.

"I would do it again, to achieve a better understanding."

"Good." Samantha pats her stomach. "Goodnight Seven."

"Goodnight Sam."


End file.
